


The Fire Nation Refugees

by rhododaktylos_yue



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, it's not as dark as it sounds from the tags but PLEASE stay safe, this is about recovery from trauma but there's trauma first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25678135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhododaktylos_yue/pseuds/rhododaktylos_yue
Summary: Min Ji, Yang, and Han are three Fire Nation teens fleeing their country and trying to find a bit of peace in a worn-torn world. Along the way they run into the disgraced prince of the Fire Nation as well as the Avatar and his friends.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you like this! I'm curious to see if this concept intrigues anyone other than me.

**Min Ji**

“Please, Father. I only had the Fire Nation’s best interests at heart. I’m sorry I spoke out of turn!”

Min Ji was hyper-aware of her own father beside her as she watched the Agni Kai between Firelord Ozai and Prince Zuko. Only, it wasn’t a fight, like an Agni Kai should be; it was cruel and horrifying, watching a father publicly humiliate his son, a son who, at thirteen, was a year younger than Min Ji herself.

Prince Zuko was kneeling before his father, begging for forgiveness and mercy, and it struck Min Ji that he was just a kid, really.

Min Ji wasn’t sure how she found her voice, but she asked, voice barely audible, “What did he say?”

When she looked up at her father, Min Ji saw General Oshiro instead, no trace of fatherly affection. His once-warm amber eyes were hard and dispassionate, and she shivered. “He criticized General Bujing’s plan.”

General Bujing’s plan to sacrifice the forty-first division as a diversion?

Eyes wide, Min Ji turned back to watch the Agni Kai unfold.

“I _won’t_ fight you.” Prince Zuko’s voice was muffled, his forehead lowered in deference, almost touching the stage, and Min Ji felt a surge of admiration and terror; admiration, because the prince was doing the right thing, and terror for what it would cost him.

“You will learn.” Zuko lifted his head, and as the Firelord advanced across the stage, Min Ji couldn’t believe that no one was speaking out against this. This didn’t feel like the Fire Nation’s usual pageantry, but like a play unfolding, tragic and surreal. This couldn’t be happening. “And suffering will be your teacher.”

Her head spun, her knees weak as the Firelord raised his hand and Zuko’s eyes widened in fear.

Min Ji woke abruptly, her heart racing, breaths coming shallow and fast.

She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. She hated that nightmare.

If there was a singular moment which had dragged her out of summery, sunshiney childhood and threw her headlong into the frigid winters of cynicism and loneliness, that was it.

It had been three years since the Agni Kai and the memory hadn’t gotten any less revolting.

With a groan, she sat up, dumping the crimson fire lilies from the vase on her nightstand onto the floor in an unceremonious pile. She held the vase between her knees as it was filled with the contents of her stomach.

That part never got less revolting, either. At least she’d only fainted at the time, a quiet sort of rebellion; she shuddered to think how she’d have been punished for throwing up.

Min Ji set the vase on the nightstand again. After another moment of gathering herself, she stood, dragging herself through her morning routine and doing her best to push the memory away.

Where was Prince Zuko now?

Despite herself, Min Ji couldn’t help wondering. She hoped he was okay, but the rumors said he was somewhere in the Earth Kingdom, on the run, branded a traitor to the Fire Nation. Apparently he hadn’t gotten any better at keeping out of trouble.

She continued to wonder as she got dressed and ate breakfast, but her wondering came to an abrupt stop around mid-morning when she was called to the tea room and walked in to see her father talking with Commander Hien.

Commander Hien smiled when he saw her, and Min Ji bowed.

“Good morning, Commander,” she said.

“Good morning, Min Ji.” Hien’s eyes were a warm brown, and his dark hair was in a topknot. He always dressed nicely, but today his outfit was especially nice, embroidered with more gold than usual in more intricate patterns.

He was handsome and inspired no affection in her.

“Sit,” General Oshiro ordered.

Min Ji obeyed.

“As I was saying,” Hien said, and he was addressing the General. As usual, Min Ji was just there to brighten up the room. “I hope to be Admiral someday.”

“Ambitious. I like to see that.” The General nodded. “And I hear you’ve bought a house here in Caldera?”

“Yes, sir.”

Min Ji’s stomach hadn’t quite settled from earlier, and it churned again now. She knew the inevitable conclusion now as she had at that Agni Kai.

Commander Hien was going to ask the General for her hand in marriage.

As subtle as she could, she tried to slow her breathing again. She could make it through this.

The General nodded. “I consent for you to marry my daughter.”

When Hien looked at her, grinning, Min Ji plastered a smile on her face and remembered the consequences for failing to pretend well enough.

↢ ⽕ ↣

Xia was reading poetry when Min Ji found her in her rock garden.

“Can I talk to you?” Min Ji asked, and she wasn’t surprised when Xia held up a finger, her golden eyes flicking across the page.

Min Ji plucked a stray black hair from her red silk dress as she waited patiently for Xia to finish.

“Okay,” Xia said, setting her pamphlet down and scooting down on the stone bench to make room.

Min Ji sat next to her. She wasn’t quite comfortable with addressing the issue right out the gate, though, so she instead asked, “What were you reading?”

“A romance,” Xia said. “It’s the story that _Love Amongst the Dragons_ is based on.”

Right. That play Xia had dragged her to. Min Ji was surprised by how short the pamphlet was, and that someone had managed to create an entire two-and-a-half hour play from it.

Xia nudged her shoulder against Min Ji’s. “Is something wrong?”

Min Ji scuffed the toe of her sandal against the grass. “Commander Hien officially asked for permission to marry me.”

“That’s great!” Xia hugged her tight. “Oh, I wish I had a wealthy, handsome betrothed…”

Min Ji pushed Xia gently away. “I didn’t think it’d go this far.”

Xia raised an eyebrow, waiting for Min Ji to explain, but she couldn’t. Min Ji didn’t know how to explain that she’d always sort of assumed things would stop before now; that at some point her mask would slip and she’d be caught, and retribution would be swift.

And it was starting to sink in that she’d pretended convincingly enough. This was going to be her life. She was going to be the wife of a Commander - soon to be an Admiral - and have his children and this was going to be it, forever.

And as terrifying as that tension had been, of waiting to be banished, she wondered if there might not be some relief with it, too.

Xia waited patiently, but all Min Ji had for her after all that silence was a shrug.

↢ ⽕ ↣

Min Ji lay awake in her soft, comfortable bed in a soft, comfortable life, and thought of Zuko, wandering the Earth Kingdom.

Was he happy? Or, at least, happier than her?

The moonlight shone sharp and pale through the window, and it brought with it clarity: she wanted to be as brave as the Prince.

She stood, her footfalls soft on the rug, and began to pack her things.

**Yang**

“You can't sacrifice an entire division like that! Those soldiers love and defend our nation! How can you betray them?”

Yang wondered if General Iroh was embellishing the story at all, or if Zuko had said that verbatim. He thought and hoped it was the second. He could imagine Zuko saying it, at least, although Zuko’s voice had changed over the years, and Yang could only imagine his current voice, deep and rough.

Yang was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the ship’s hull, listening with the rest of the sailors as Iroh recounted the story of how Zuko had gotten his scar.

Yang didn’t need to hear the story, though. He didn’t like Zuko very much - he could be rude and abrasive and thoughtless - but despite Zuko’s rather callous disregard for the crew’s safety earlier that day, Yang did trust him.

↢ ⽕ ↣

“Let go of me!” Three years before the storm, Yang tried to yank his arm out of Lieutenant Jee’s grasp, but his grip only tightened. Yang huffed out a petulant “ow.”

Lieutenant Jee knocked on a door, and it swung open. A teenager glared at him, and Yang’s first thought was that his hair was stupid, his head mostly shaved but with a high ponytail. His second thought was about the bandages on his eye and how pirate-like it would be if he needed an eyepatch eventually. His third thought was more of a realization: this was Prince Zuko.

“We have a stowaway,” Lieutenant Jee said, and Yang kicked Jee in the shin, yanking his arm free.

The Prince opened the door wide, and Lieutenant Jee shoved Yang into the cabin. The door slammed shut behind him.

“I’m not scared.” Yang crossed his arms, doing his best to look angry instead. They both knew that the penalty for stowaways was harsh, up to and including execution.

Still better than staying home, though.

“What are you doing on my ship?” the Prince demanded.

Yang clenched his jaw and turned away. He knew he needed to explain himself, but he was neither a talented liar nor willing to tell the truth.

“I asked you a question!”

“Are you going to kill me?” Yang kept his tone as even as possible.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Then I’m not telling you anything.” No need to go into his dark past if he was going to die directly after. His eyes fell upon the dao swords hanging on the wall. Well. It’s not like he could get in _more_ trouble. He took them down and swung them experimentally, just to feel their weight. They’d been sharpened recently. “Do you know how to use these?”

“Of course I do. They’re mine, aren’t they?”

Yang shrugged. “They might’ve been decorative.”

The Prince watched him run through a few forms for a moment. “You know how to use them, too.”

“I’m not a firebender,” Yang admitted. “I learned how to use swords instead. Not that it made my father any less disappointed in me.”

He watched the Prince carefully as he allowed that small sliver of his past to slip out, and something flashed across the Prince’s features. Recognition, maybe?

“That’s the reason I’m here.”

The Prince raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re not a firebender?”

“Well, that, too, I guess? I more meant that I got kind of tired of the way my dad _expressed_ his disappointment in me.”

The Prince seemed uncomprehending, so Yang hung the swords back up and sighed. Yang lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing the fading bruises that dotted his ribs.

Prince Zuko inhaled sharply, and, as if he didn’t mean to, he took a few steps across the room, until his fingertips could hover over the bruises. His expression was unreadable.

Then he drew away as if he’d been electrocuted, clasping his hands behind his back. “If you’re going to stay you’re going to work.”

Yang nodded, dropping the hem of his shirt. “Yes, sir.”

Yang never told Zuko that the breaking point in his and his father’s relationship had come when his father caught him kissing his friend Makoto. Another boy.

Prince Zuko had allowed him to stay, and that was enough.

↢ ⽕ ↣

“I always thought that Prince Zuko was in a training accident,” Lieutenant Jee whispered, horrified, as Iroh finished his story.

“It was no accident,” Iroh assured him, and Yang stood. He slipped out of the room as quietly as he could. 

Whatever else they had to say about Zuko, he didn’t need to hear it. Yang had made the decision to trust him a long time ago.

Even if Zuko could be a jerk, most of the time.

↢ ⽕ ↣

The more self-aware part of Yang, a part he tried to ignore as much as possible, had some suspicion that Yang’s attachment to Zuko was more along the lines of a crush (an appropriate term for something that devastated him like this), but it didn’t matter much. Yang could never, ever let anyone know.

↢ ⽕ ↣

The good thing about having once been a stowaway on a ship like Zuko’s was that he wasn’t a real member of the navy, and as such, it was easy for Yang to vanish, with all the chaos of the Siege of the North.

He was done being a sailor. He’d only spent so long as one because of Zuko, but he might as well be something else now.

**Han**

Han sat with her legs dangling, eyes closed, trying to savor the breeze that cooled her skin and dried her tears. A headache pounded away, though, dulling the tranquil feeling she was seeking.

She opened her eyes and looked down. Far below, a river roared, but from here it was barely a rumble.

If she jumped, where would the fall take her?

She only needed to gather her resolve for a moment. Just long enough to actually do it. She could picture it, replaying the scene over and over in her mind until it didn’t seem that difficult.

But she wasn’t totally _sure_ yet.

“What are you doing?”

Startled to hear another person’s voice, Han jumped to her feet and spun around to face a man dressed in green. He had short, dark hair and an angry scarlet burn around his left eye. His left, Han’s right.

She took a step back, the dry clay crumbling under her shoes, pebbles sliding down the cliff and tumbling into the gorge. After a second, she regained her balance, but she didn’t move away from the edge.

The man flinched, as if he wanted to reach out and pull her forward onto firmer ground, but Han was glad he didn’t.

He studied her for a long moment with piercing golden eyes, and Han wondered if he could somehow see her thoughts on her face. She hoped not.

He sheathed his dual broadswords, hands raised in the universal reassurance of no ill intent. “My name is Li. What’s yours?”

“Han,” she said. Then, hoping that he’d hate her for it, especially considering his scar, she added, “I’m from the Fire Nation.”

Surprise flashed across Li’s face, but he made no move to leave. “Okay?”

Han huffed, annoyed. She didn’t owe this stranger anything. He didn’t know her, and there was no way she could explain the way that she clawed and struggled for the tiniest scrap of happiness, but it just wasn’t there. It hadn’t been for nearly a month now. As if she just wasn’t capable of feeling it anymore.

She sat, and Li did, too.

Conflict warred within her. She wanted to push him away, sure that she would only bring him down with her, too, wrapping her wrist around his ankle and tugging him down into the depths of the stormy ocean, but also desperately needing someone to comfort her.

Mostly, though, she was just tired.

“My uncle says that we should never give in to despair,” Li said, as if he was unsure if he should speak at all. “He says giving ourselves hope is the meaning of inner strength, or something.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped.

Was she strong? It didn’t feel like there was any hope. But maybe the fact that she’d already made it this far proved that she was strong. After all, she’d been anxious and exhausted since she was three, in fits and starts, and she’d still survived thirteen more years.

“Do you believe it?” she asked. That having hope is inner strength.

“My uncle is really wise, even if I can’t understand him half the time.”

Han nodded.

“I was travelling with him for a while. A long while,” Li said, and Han liked listening to him. He had a nice voice, slightly rough but in a pleasant way, and it was good to think about something other than how miserable she was. “Things changed, and it felt like there wasn’t any hope left.”

“I told him I wanted to travel alone, but I think… when I see him again, I want to travel with him.”

Han ached for someone to care about her like Li cared about his uncle.

“Tell me more about him?” Han asked.

Li’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Well, eye; his left eye was always narrow, its movement limited by the burn tissue. Han wondered if he could see with it. “Why?”

Han shrugged. She didn’t have the energy to explain that sometimes when she was anxious it was good to hear someone else’s voice, to use it to ground herself in reality. “I like listening to people talk about what they love.”

After a second, Li began to describe his uncle’s favorite types of tea, his fondness for pai sho, working up to a story about a time that his uncle had lost a white lotus tile and made them backtrack and search for it for hours.

When Han felt her mind wandering away from the story, she closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths, and focused on Li’s voice.

At some point, when it got too dark for them to see each other, Han lit a small flame in her palm. Li didn’t flinch. The light made his green clothes seem a mustard yellow.

The flame rose with each time Han inhaled, and fell with each exhale.

Li continued rambling. The subject never wavered from Li’s uncle, although occasionally he paused and Han quickly figured out that he did so when he needed to construct a lie that he’d then tell poorly. Han was in no position to press, though, and had no interest in doing so.

Sometime around midnight, probably, by unspoken agreement, they moved from the edge of the gorge to a more forested patch nearby, and within an hour Han was asleep, leaning back against a tree trunk.

She woke to sunlight streaming through the trees, as the sun peeked over the horizon and glared at them brightly.

She sat up - her neck was stiff and she still had a headache - and looked over at Li, who was turning a sheathed knife over in his hands.

“What’s that?” Han asked, in part to let him know she was awake, but he didn’t seem surprised. He’d probably already noticed.

Li held the knife out, handle turned towards her.

She unsheathed it and studied the inscription on the blade. “Never give up without a fight.”

“You can keep it, if you want.” Li tried to make the offer sound casual, but Han got the feeling that it weighed more than he was letting on, considering the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes and his cheeks turned pink, like he was embarrassed to make himself vulnerable. Han knew the feeling.

“Only if you’re sure,” she said.

He hesitated. “You won’t…?”

“If you make me promise something, I will keep my promise, as much as I can,” she said, and she hoped he understood. It was as much as she could say.

She didn’t need him to make her promise not to use the blade on herself - the sight of blood made her more nauseous than anything - but she hoped that he’d make her promise to live a bit longer.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” he asked.

Han hesitated. She’d be fine without him, probably. She did feel better, with the reminder that she was strong enough to fight this, for now. And she kind of wanted to get some more sleep, which she’d prefer to be alone for.

She nodded.

Li stood. “I’ll see you again someday?”

Han felt the faintest beginnings of a smile spread across her face. “I promise.” She looked up at him, fingers wrapped tightly around the knife. “See you later, Li.”

“See you later, Han.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Yang's perspective, meeting the Avatar and friends, as well as some other Fire Nation teenagers hiding their associations with their homeland.

**Yang**

The elation which accompanied Yang’s first kiss had been short-lived, to say the least.

He’d pulled away from Makoto, trying to memorize his friend’s freshly-kissed face - the pink along his cheekbones, his long lashes, the way his lips were still slightly parted - before he turned his head sideways and saw his father, looking angrier than ever. The bruises had taken a long time to heal.

His second kiss hadn’t been much better, but in fairness, he had kissed a man in a _Fire-Nation-occupied_ Earth Kingdom colony. He should probably stop kissing men with Fire Nation citizens anywhere nearby.

He had mixed feelings about the fact that the other man had run, upon their discovery, and Yang hadn’t; which of them had been right?

Yang felt a pull in the muscles of his shoulder and tried to wrench himself free. “I know how to _walk_.”

“And how to run, too, probably,” one of the soldiers said.

“And when running would be pointless.” Yang glared pointedly at the other soldiers. As a nonbender, unarmed with anything at the moment, he couldn’t fight off four trained men. Not to mention all the patrolmen wandering the town, just waiting for some excitement.

The grip on his arm tightened, and he was shoved toward the low earthen building the Fire Nation had commandeered and repurposed as a jailhouse.

Yang only got a glimpse of the other inhabitants of the cell before he was thrown into it. He caught himself, hands stinging from the impact with the hardwood floor.

The door slammed behind him.

Yang sat up, crossing his legs, and pulled his hair back into a ponytail as nonchalantly as he could. 

Belatedly, he realized he recognized the other occupants of the cell. Well, some of them. One of them was the avatar, along with his two friends and traveling companions, some Water Tribe kids. Zuko had never used any of their names.

There was also a short black-haired girl, a girl with brown hair and burn scars along her arms, and a tall girl with black hair, none of whom Yang had ever seen.

Trying to hide his pounding pulse, he addressed the group. “Nice to meet you, I’m Yang.”

“I’m Aang,” the avatar said cheerfully, which meant he probably didn’t recognize Yang. That was good. “Nice to meet you too!”

“I’m Katara and this is my brother Sokka.” Okay, maybe Yang shouldn’t have used the term Water Tribe _kids_. Sokka was about his age and… kinda cute?

This sort of thinking had literally gotten Yang in trouble five minutes ago. He really needed to stop being attracted to men entirely.

Oh, right, he’d tried that. (It hadn’t worked.)

“I’m Han,” the girl with the scars said. Her brown hair was in two messy buns on either side, like mousebat ears.

“Min Ji,” said the tall girl. Her hair was pinned up in a neat bun with a gold Fire Nation-style hairpin.

“Toph.” The short girl crossed her arms. She wasn’t looking at anything in particular, and her eyes were milky. She was probably blind. “Now that we’re all friends, anyone have any ideas for getting out of here?”

Yang looked around at the wood floor, wood walls, wood ceiling, and the iron bars keeping them in.

“I could slice through the bars, but I don’t have any water,” Katara said. “The guards took it.”

“And my boomerang,” Sokka said, dejected, chin in his hand. “I just got it back not that long ago.”

When had he lost it?

“And my knife.” Han sighed, lying down on the floor. “My friend Li gave it to me.”

“Somehow I thought the avatar would be harder to capture,” Yang said. He bit his tongue, sure he’d given himself away, but Aang just gave a sheepish grin.

“I haven’t mastered all the elements yet,” Aang said.

“Besides, bending isn’t always helpful. On a scale of one to ten, I think lighting our cell on fire would be a negative in helpfulness,” Han said. “But we could put it to a vote. Who wants to burn alive?”

Han raised her hand in jest. No one else did.

“I don’t know any firebending,” Aang said.

“I do.” Han put her hand down and sat up.

Yang looked sharply at Han. That was at least two Fire Nation citizens in here, then, and Min Ji might be a third, with that hairpiece.

“If you’re from the Fire Nation, why were you arrested? Aren’t you guys the ones who usually arrest people for no reason?” Sokka asked. “No offense.”

“And why do you have…” Min Ji gestured to the burn marks hesitantly.

“What do you mean?” Katara asked.

“Hello! Blind!” Toph waved her arms around. “What are you talking about?”

“Burn scars on my arm, which are strange because firebenders are usually fireproof,” Han said. Except in extreme circumstances.

Except when they refuse to firebend, even for their own protection.

Yang missed Zuko. He’d been a jerk, but at least he was familiar, and he could definitely escape someplace like this.

Han examined her fingernails. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“We’re stuck here anyway,” Min Ji pointed out.

“It’s a dark story.”

“We’re used to that,” Katara said, touching her necklace, a blue ribbon with a white stone pendant. “My mom died in a raid.”

Han shook her head. “It’s nothing like that. I did this to myself.”

“ _Why_?” Aang asked, and he couldn’t keep his nose from wrinkling slightly in distaste.

“Do you ever get frustrated with, well, everything, and you have to destroy something?” Han asked, pulling her knees towards her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “Except the only thing I can destroy without feeling worse after is me.”

“Gross,” Min Ji said, before quickly rearranging her features to read less judgmentally. “Sorry.”

Han shrugged. “It’s okay.”

Toph hesitated. “Is it really that bad to live in the Fire Nation?”

“Worse,” Yang said, without thinking. His cheeks colored as they looked at him.

“It’s not terrible for everyone, but for some people it’s awful. Even Prince Zuko-” Min Ji cut herself off, and Yang guessed that she knew how Zuko had gotten his scar.

“Who’s Zuko?” Toph asked.

“You know Prince Zuko?” Han asked Min Ji.

“I don’t think we really have time for this,” Katara cut in. “They’ll come back to take Aang any minute.”

Aang leapt to his feet with a gust of air. “She’s right. If we’re going to escape, we should do it now.”

“Will you help us? Or, at least, not give us away?” Katara asked, looking to the three Fire Nation citizens in turn.

“Of course,” Yang assured her.

“I want the Fire Nation to change leadership as much as you do,” Min Ji said. While Yang agreed - he thought Zuko would be a good leader, once he was less conflicted about his own anger and his loyalty to his father - he wondered about Min Ji’s past with Zuko. Had she known him personally? Or only by reputation?

Or maybe she had a different leader in mind.

Sokka shrugged, as if he thought their casual treason was strange but was accepting it anyway.

“Any suggestions with more precision than burning the whole cell with us inside?” Han asked, getting to her feet.

“Can you melt metal?” Sokka asked.

“Yes, but it takes longer. I can’t melt the lock or it’ll fuse shut, and I won’t be able to slice through the bars quickly or easily.”

“You don’t have to. Just melt the hinges.”

Sokka’s suggestion was a solid one, and Yang had never given much thought to Team Avatar but he thought he understood now why a non-bender was among them.

Han had to stick her arm through the bars to reach the hinges, but the metal grew orange and fell to the floor in sizzling globs. The globs smoked and petered out, doubtlessly charring the wood.

When she’d weakened the hinges, Aang said, “Stand back.”

Aang sent a blast of air towards the door, and it screeched outward. As it was about to clatter to the floor Aang cushioned it with another burst of air.

“Finally,” Min Ji said, brushing invisible dirt off her dress.

“I still need my waterskin,” Katara said.

“And boomeraang.”

“Where do you think our things are hidden?” Han asked.

“We’ll distract the guards while you search.” Toph grinned. “Right, twinkletoes?”

“Right.” Aang’s eyes shone with determination.

“We’ll get your glider,” Katara promised.

Aang and Toph rushed in one direction, and as Sokka, Katara, and Han ran off in another - further into the facility - Yang hesitated. He followed the group searching for their stuff. He didn’t see where Min Ji ran.

The four of them drew up to a doorway, and there was a series of loud bangs from the front of the precinct. Aang and Toph’s distraction. 

The guards ran toward the sound, through a more frontward door, and the four fugitives slipped inside the newly abandoned break room and spread out.

Yang was the first to find their things, although he was slow on the uptake, staring at Zuko’s knife uncomprehendingly.

_Never give up without a fight._

Was Zuko here, somehow?

Yang’s pulse quickened, and he berated himself for his crush.

“Yang found it.” Han plucked the knife from his hand, folding it into her palm like it was precious to her. Yang’s confusion increased.

“Boomeraang!” Sokka exclaimed.

Katara slung the waterskin by her hip again and snatched Aang’s glider, which currently resembled a staff. “Let’s go.”

Katara and Sokka ran towards their friends. Han followed them, and Yang followed the girl who had Zuko’s knife.

Toph was laughing maniacally in front of the building, hurling rocks at stunned soldiers. Aang slammed them into walls with gusts that verged on gales.

Katara drew the water from her waterskin and slapped some soldiers aside with a water whip. Yang was satisfied to note that the soldier who had caught him was amongst those smacked.

These kids could really handle themselves; no wonder Zuko had had so much trouble catching them.

Speaking of Zuko...

Yang grabbed Han’s wrist and tugged her away from the fight, breaking into a run.

When they finally stopped, winded, half a dozen blocks later, Min Ji sprinted around the corner, too.

As soon as Yang had caught his breath he asked, “Where did you get that knife?”

“My friend Li gave it to me,” Han said.

“Handsome, dark hair, gold eyes, scar on this side of his face?” Yang asked, holding his hand up and covering his left eye.

“Yeah. You know him?”

Min Ji raised an eyebrow, behind Han’s back. She knew as well as he did the real identity of the man who matched that description.

“Yeah, he’s my friend, too.” Kind of. As much as one could be friends with a surly and standoffish superior officer of three years.

Min Ji’s eyes widened. She glanced behind her, as if to check that no one was coming after them, before suggesting, “We should stick together.”

↢ ⽕ ↣

It wasn’t until several hours later that Yang learned why Min Ji had wanted to form a group.

“I’m guessing you know Li by the same name I do,” she said quietly, as Han napped, her face lit orange by the campfire she’d started.

Yang nodded. “That has to be Zuko’s knife.”

“You really knew him?” Min Ji’s voice had a tinge of awe to it.

He nodded again. “I sailed with him for three years.”

“I only saw him at the Agni Kai.”

“But you know why…?” Why Zuko was burned. Punished. Scarred.

Min Ji nodded. “I’ve never heard of anything that brave.”

There was definitely awe in her voice now; she _admired_ Zuko. Yang partially understood. She had never really met him, and Zuko’s actions were often courageous.

“I’m glad to know he’s okay,” Yang said. He’d worried, when he’d seen a wanted poster with Zuko’s face on it two towns back. “At least okay enough to be befriending people and bequeathing them inappropriate gifts.”

Min Ji smiled.

“We won’t tell Han?” he confirmed.

“There doesn’t seem to be any reason to.”

Yang still had a million questions - he wanted to know why Min Ji held so much admiration for Zuko; what did he mean to her personally? - but when Min Ji lay down and whispered, “Good night,” Yang let her.

↢ ⽕ ↣

The three of them made their way to Ba Sing Se, the last stronghold of the Earth Kingdom resisting the tyranny of their motherland.

Yang learned that Han had to be watched and kept company, or else she’d add new burn scars to her collection; she never used the knife on herself, though, and seemed mostly to take comfort in its message. She also never hurt herself when other people with whom she could talk were present and awake. It was easy enough to stay up with her through the tougher nights and ramble about nothing, which was how Han became the first person Yang ever told about his attraction to men. Verbally, anyway.

She had been surprisingly supportive, confessing that she liked women, maybe, in addition to men. Neither of them mentioned it to Min Ji.

From Min Ji herself, Yang learned what life was like for wealthy Fire Nation kids who weren’t disappointments to their fathers. He listened as Min Ji opened up about the constant pressure, awaiting an unforgivable misstep, and eventually, she admitted that she wanted to be an artist but had never been allowed to try. Many forms of art were highly regulated in the Fire Nation, including anything ‘controversial.’ Like anything that depicted men loving other men, romantically. Or any art which discussed illnesses of the mind like Han suffered from. Or any whispers of rebellion. And art was certainly not something that the elites engaged in the creation of.

By the time they reached the city, it was easy to agree to share an apartment, with their dearth of income and a common past they all had to hide. Han was readily convinced to give up firebending to maintain the illusion that the three of them were Earth Kingdom citizens fleeing the war.

For Yang, hiding parts of himself was a matter of habit. It was simple to hide this, too.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han runs into an old friend; she and the other refugees try for a quiet life in Ba Sing Se.

**Han**

The streets of Ba Sing Se were dirty and crowded, but that made it easier to find distractions from the mind-numbing existential pain. Han ran her forefinger along the sheathed knife in her jacket pocket and tried to enjoy the night air.

Today was a good day for her; she felt present and relaxed, and in the mood for a cup of tea.

There had to be a hundred tea shops in the city, littered on every street corner, a dizzying blend of aromas wafting from them. Han chose one with green lanterns by the entryway - the Pao Family Tea House - and took a seat at one of the eight tables, waiting to be served.

Upon the realization that she had accidentally found the tea shop Li worked in, Han felt an unusual surge of… something. Safety? Comfort? She hadn’t expected to ever see him again.

Perhaps it was silly to consider Li a friend at all, but she had so few, and he’d saved her. He had only been doing what any compassionate person would do, but still. There was some loyalty there from Han.

When she caught his eye, she waved. His good eye widened in surprise.

“Hi, my name is Li. What can I get for you?” he asked, when he came over, his posture stiff.

Did he not recognize her, or was he awkward?

His golden eyes met hers for only a second, before they flicked down to the notepad he was holding. “Besides my knife.”

Ah. Awkward, then. Han could respect that.

Han nodded towards the older gentleman smiling at all the customers. “Is that your uncle?”

Li huffed. “Yes.”

His annoyance was fake; Han remembered the way he’d rambled about his uncle, and knew that they must have been glad for the reunion.

“Did you want tea?” Li asked, his irritation increasing.

Han hummed. “What kind would you suggest?”

“Why do people always ask me that?”

“Maybe because you work in a tea shop?”

Li’s uncle interrupted. “And what a privilege it is. There is nothing quite as comforting as a cup of hot tea.”

“I have a running list, actually. Of comforting things.” The list was more accurately titled _Reasons to Stay Alive_ , and Han skipped her promise to Li. “Scented candles, warm summer rain, a good book. Familiar faces.”

Li huffed. Maybe her teasing was a bit much.

“It is good to take the time to appreciate the little things,” Li’s uncle agreed.

“Excuse me,” one of the other patrons interrupted. He held his teacup up. “Could I have another cup?”

Li’s uncle grinned. “Of course!” He walked away to give the patron a refill.

Li turned to Han, waiting. It took her a second to understand what he was waiting for.

“Oh! I’ll have Jasmine, I guess,” Han said.

He nodded brusquely and turned away. Han turned her attention to the other tables.

The patron who had called Li’s uncle over - Han should really learn his name - said, “This is the best tea in the city!”

Li’s uncle smiled. “The secret ingredient is love.”

Li made a disgusted face and Han bit back a laugh. She wondered if Li’s uncle knew how much Li cared for him, when Li reacted to his comments like this.

The slamming of the door startled her.

The teenager in the entryway shouted, “I’m tired of waiting!” He pointed at Li and his uncle. “Those two are firebenders!”

The entire shop froze. Han raised an eyebrow. She both did and didn’t understand why a refugee being from the Fire Nation was a problem; authoritarian regimes affect their own people first, why wouldn’t some Fire Nation citizens want to escape that oppression? Who cared where the refugees came from?

Sure, the suffering was _different_ , but quantifying suffering as ‘better’ or ‘worse’ was an unwinnable game for all parties involved. The war was traumatic for everyone (except Ozai, probably).

Not to mention this teen was accusing the wrong person. As far as Han knew, Li was from the Earth Kingdom, a conclusion supported by his scar. Han had scars because she had wanted to hurt herself; what reason would any other firebender possibly have to allow his face to be burnt?

The teen drew two hooked swords - what a strange-looking weapon - and declared, “I know they’re firebenders. I saw the old man heating his tea!”

Wow, ‘old man’ was an even ruder nickname than ‘Li’s uncle.’ Han felt slightly less bad. About that, at least.

“He works in a tea shop,” another customer said, and Han snorted.

The teen persisted. “He’s a firebender! I’m telling you!”

Two customers stood. Han missed what they said, trying to figure out how to diffuse the situation, or maybe how to protect Li.

“You’ll have to defend yourself. Then everyone will know. Go ahead, show them what you can do,” the stranger challenged.

“You want a show, I’ll give you a show,” Li shot back.

Hm. Diffusing the situation may no longer be possible.

To Han’s surprise, Li drew a pair of broadswords.

Han stopped thinking. She acted on impulse instead; the only lingering inhibition reminded her not to firebend. At least her anger issues had led her into frequent fights, from playground scuffles to prison yard brawls during her stints in juvie.

She swiped a teacup from the neighboring table and flung it at the stranger at the same time that Li kicked a table towards him. The stranger swiped the teacup aside with his hook-sword and sliced the table in half, dodging the debris. He lunged towards Li. Li leapt onto a table.

Han drew the knife Li had given her and slid under the table she’d been sitting at. She’d never used the knife before on anything other than fruit, but how different from a shiv could it be?

Oh, right. She’d never managed to stab anyone with a shiv either.

She slashed at him, and the stranger’s blade clashed against hers, the other hook-sword slashing at Li. She let him bat her knife aside and delivered a roundhouse kick to his hip.

He grunted. The table Li was standing on was wobbling, sliced in two.

As Li tried to regain his balance, the stranger swiped at Han. She dodged to the side. Li hopped lightly onto the floor and slashed at the stranger’s feet.

He leapt out of the way of Li’s swords. Han put herself in the distance between them. She blocked one of his hook-swords with the knife.

The knife clattered to the ground. His other hook grabbed her by the elbow when she blocked it.

“Why are you defending a firebender?” he yelled.

Han didn’t really have time to answer. The stranger swung her forward and she slammed into the wall. There were several sharp pains in her right arm.

With a grunt, she kicked him away. The stranger refocused on Li, and Han took a breath, shaking her head. Her vision cleared.

Li tumbled out the door, and the stranger followed him. The other patrons quickly filled the doorway to watch.

That exit was blocked.

Han huffed and grabbed the windowsill, swinging herself out through the tiny opening.

“You must be getting tired of using those swords,” the stranger said to Li. “Why don’t you go ahead and firebend at me?”

Han strongly considered it, but pushed the impulse down.

Li’s uncle yelled, “Please, son! You’re confused! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“Li’s a good person!” Han added, because it was the only part she could truthfully vouch for, even though by her own admission it sounded lame and inconsequential.

She watched for an opening, but Li and the stranger were both better fighters than her, moving faster than she could. She’d never been trained in active combat situations, after all, only street fights, where she could afford to lose.

“Bet you wish he’d help you out with a little fire blast right now,” the stranger jeered.

Han was so tempted to help like that; if she could surprise him, or get the drop on him, she could protect Li.

But Li was doing fine on his own. “You’re the one who needs help.”

Han sagged against the wall. Her shoulder really did hurt. She glanced down and saw scarlet smeared across her skin by her elbow.

The two men’s swords clashed. Han looked up. The stranger leapt up onto the edge of the well and shouted, “You see that?! The Fire Nation is trying to silence me. It’ll never happen!”

“I’d like to silence you,” Han shouted back, pushing off the wall and sliding to a stop in front of Li.

Behind her, Li huffed, quietly enough that only she could hear him, “Get out of the way.”

“No.”

“I can take care of _myself_.” Li put his arm around her waist. He spun her around, switching places with her, and pushed her away. She stumbled towards the crowd.

He and the stranger launched back into their fight.

Han’s eyes followed the silver flashes. No part of her brain wanted to analyze her frustration with Li, but she couldn’t really stop herself. Sure, Li was a better fighter than her, but if one of them was going to get hurt, it should be the one who wanted to be dead anyway.

A Dai Li agent yelled, “Drop your weapons!”

Reluctantly, slowly, the stranger and Li obliged.

“Arrest them!” _Why_ was this stranger so obsessed with Li? “They’re firebenders!”

It occurred to Han that she really didn’t know much at all about Li or his uncle, despite the night she’d spend listening to him ramble. If she had the chance, she’d ask Li straight-out where he was from.

It did not occur to her that he might lie.

“This poor boy is confused, we’re just simple refugees,” Li’s uncle said, and again Han wondered why they couldn’t be both firebenders and refugees. Like her.

Someone - presumably Pao of Pao Family Tea House - said, “This young man wrecked my tea shop and assaulted my employees!”

“It’s true, sir, we saw the whole thing,” a customer said. “This crazy kid attacked the finest tea maker in the city.”

Li’s uncle blushed. “Oh, that’s very sweet.”

Han still hadn’t even gotten to try the jasmine she’d ordered.

The Dai Li said, “Come with us,” and the stranger was still insisting Li was a firebender, even as he was dragged away.

“Are you okay?” Han asked Li, the moment the stranger was no longer visible through the crowd.

Li glared at her.

“Thank you for defending my nephew,” his uncle said.

Han shrugged, but her eyes were on Li, and at his uncle’s comment the glare grew even more aggressive. It was safe to say that the thanks was not from both of them.

“You are injured,” Li’s uncle said, surprised.

“I’ll be fine.” She drew her arm back. Closer inspection of the skin would reveal more recent burn marks than she wanted to admit, amongst the older ones; it would be easily deduced that she had put them there herself.

Her earlier happiness had evaporated. Now she felt tired and annoyed.

“I’m going home.”

“But your tea,” the uncle protested.

“I’m not thirsty.”

He seemed flabbergasted. “What does that have to do with anything?”

The question caught Han off-guard, and she snorted. “Fair point.”

She felt Li’s eyes on her as she allowed herself to be led back inside, cradling her right arm.

“It’s dislocated.” Li’s voice surprised her.

She stopped. “What?”

Li and his uncle exchanged a glance. Then the uncle asked the shop owner Pao, “Would you mind if my nephew walked this young lady home?”

Pao gave them an appraising look. “I expect you here bright and early tomorrow, young man.”

“Fine.”

Li led her away with a light touch to her other arm.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Han asked, “What-“

“We’re going to have to pop the joint back into place.” Li glanced over at her, and was that sympathy? “It’s painful. You might scream.”

Hm. An unsettling thing to hear from a man you didn’t know well whom you were following to a secondary location, because this was not the way to Han’s apartment.

The walk was short, though, the stairs taking almost as long to climb as the two blocks were to walk, and then Li opened the door to a small two-room apartment. There was a kitchenette with a table, and a screen dividing the living area from the bedroom, but otherwise the space was entirely undecorated.

“Sit down,” Li said, and Han obeyed.

He placed his hands on her shoulder and bicep, his grip firm but not too tight, and then all of a sudden there was a wrenching. It felt better, though, back in place. Still sore, but better.

Han tried to roll it to explore her range of movement, but Li snapped, “Don’t mess with it.”

Han sighed. She stayed silent as Li fetched a cloth and some clean water to wipe away the blood from the cuts the stranger’s hook swords left.

“Are you a firebender?” She expected the sudden breach of the silence to startle him, but he just shot her a glare. He wasn’t going to answer.

“Okay.” She tried again. “Why was that guy-”

“Jet.”

“His name is _Jet_?”

Again, Li didn’t respond.

“Why was Jet so... I don’t want to say obsessed, but I kind of do?” Seeking some sort of reaction from him, she added, in a teasing tone, “Messy break-up?”

That _did_ catch him off-guard. “What? No.”

Han couldn’t tell if he was lying or if he was offended by the question, but she was sure that the speed with which he denied it meant _something_.

“It’d be fine if it was. I have a friend who’s into men.” Two, actually, if Han counted Min Ji, too. Maybe she was just pushing Li until he admitted that he was mad about something.

Li finished wrapping her arm in the sling and stepped away. Maybe if Han kept pushing she’d find out if Li was a firebender, because his gaze could’ve made the subject of it catch fire.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” Han had been right to choose obnoxiousness as her weapon, she was great at it.

“This isn’t any of your business!” Li’s voice was growing louder.

Han could shout as well as he could. “I was trying to help!”

“No, you weren’t. You were trying to put _yourself_ in danger. It wasn’t about me at all.”

Han opened her mouth to argue, but he was probably right. She crossed her arms; or rather, she tried to, but the sling got in the way, so she did her best approximation. “So?”

Li made a frustrated grunt and threw his arms up.

Han huffed. Part of her wanted to apologize, because now that she was out of the situation she could see it would’ve been better if she’d stayed out of the fight. “I kind of want to yell a bit more.”

“That’s the most reasonable thing you’ve said so far!” Li grunted, and added, almost to himself, “ _I just don’t understand you!_ ”

Han almost smiled at the absurdity of them making a mutual agreement to keep fighting; she wasn’t terribly surprised that Li had a lot of anger in him, too, considering how readily he’d drawn those swords.

“Good!” she shot back. She shouted, loud enough for the neighbors to hear, “Did you hear that, everyone? I’m _unknowable_!”

“Last time you were so...” He stopped himself, as if he wasn’t sure that was fair territory for their fight. “And now you’re so cheerful. Like nothing matters.”

“Sounds straightforward enough to me!”

“Are you better or worse?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!” The anger left her all at once. She sank into a chair. “I’m just tired, Li.”

“Yeah.” Li sagged into the other chair.

For a moment they were both silent.

“I wish I wasn’t...”

“What?” Li prompted.

“Such a burden, I guess. On all my friends.”

Li made a noise of agreement.

“I wish I was better,” she added.

“Why aren’t you?”

Han bristled automatically at the question, but her offense died in her throat when she realized Li was actually asking, not judging.

“There’s a pretty big difference between wanting to be something and actually knowing how to be that,” Han explained. The words were inadequate, but Li nodded like they made sense.

“Can I-” Li hesitated. “I’m glad Uncle’s happy, but I hate it here.”

Han wanted desperately to somehow communicate that she was happy to give Li a chance to vent, that it was her turn to offer support and that she was happy to do so, but she didn’t know how. “In Ba Sing Se?”

“Yeah.” He huffed. “It’s humiliating being poor.”

Han shrugged. “I’ve always been poor.” Her parents had never had much money. Certainly not enough to pay for any sort of medical treatment for whatever it was that was wrong with her. Not that there were any medical facilities for this sort of thing, in the Fire Nation.

“Oh.”

Abruptly, Han asked, “Are we friends?”

“What?” Again, she’d managed to surprise Li.

Han tried to feign indifference. “I just, I guess I don’t have that many friends? So I don’t know if that’s what we are.”

“I... don’t have many friends, either,” Li said, although Han guessed that _many_ really meant _any_.

“Might be nice,” Han offered, because Li still hadn’t said yes.

“Yeah, okay.”

Han nodded. She stood; she’d already imposed enough. “I’m gonna walk home.”

“Oh, do you want...?” He was offering to accompany her.

She shook her head. “I’m a firebender, I’ll be fine.”

As she was closing the door behind her, he asked, “See you tomorrow?”

“Promise.”

↢ ⽕ ↣

Han brought a book with her to read while she hung out at Pao Family Tea House. Li silently set the knife on the table when he came over to take her order, and she slid it into her jacket pocket.

She stayed for a few hours – it felt good to be around people – and when she got up to leave, Li asked, “See you tomorrow?”

She promised she’d be back.

Every day for the next week was like that, although she began checking employment ads instead of reading for fun. Yang had gotten a job as a delivery boy, and Min Ji was working in a market, but Han had yet to find some way to contribute financially to the household. She wanted to pitch in.

“Do you see me as more of a florist or a waitress?” Han asked, when Li came over to pour her some more jasmine tea.

“Florist,” Li said. He pressed his lips into a thin line. “Uncle wants me to invite you over for dinner.”

“Oh.” Han shrugged. “Sure. When?”

“You don’t have to say yes.”

Han raised an eyebrow at him. “Your uncle seems nice. Although I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know his name.”

“Oh. Mushi.”

“Ah.” Han tapped her pen against the table. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Fine.” Li walked away to deal with another customer, and Han couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

↢ ⽕ ↣

The day after Han had dinner with Li and Uncle Mushi, Mushi was offered his own tea shop in the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se. The Jasmine Dragon.

Han liked the name.

When she was finally able to visit the Upper Ring a few days later, Li seemed happy, but different.

And then Ba Sing Se fell to the Fire Nation, and Li vanished, and Han didn’t have time to look for him anyway.

The war had found her again.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Min Ji, Han, and Yang officially join the rebellion and find their lives pushed in unexpected directions.

Chapter Four

**Min Ji**

Min Ji’s life in Ba Sing Se felt only slightly less stifling than her life in the Fire Nation had.

She suspected it had something to do with the fact that she still wasn’t able to devote her time to creating art, instead needing to work in a market so they could have enough money to pay for housing and food. She always came home smelling like an odd mixture of the sauces they used on the ready-to-eat foods in aisle seven.

More than that, though, was the fact that even here, art was censored. Min Ji was not allowed to reference the war, or even the Fire Nation, which left her precious little to discuss with any real emotional depth.

Not that she could afford art supplies. Nor did she know how to use them; wanting to be a skilled artist did not make her one.

Within a month of their arrival to the city, though, all of that ceased to matter.

The last stronghold against the Fire Nation fell. There wasn’t anywhere to run, now. Nowhere in the world would be safe.

They all reacted differently. Han had a series of panic attacks, not so much because she was worried for herself - she had committed no crimes and was not going to be punished by the Fire Nation, probably - but because she soaked in everyone else’s stress like a sponge. She was anxious on behalf of everyone else who would suffer at the hands of the Fire Nation.

Yang advocated finding a rebellion to join from the second that they saw the troops in the streets. He found some swords, or had sparrow-squirreled them away earlier, or something. Min Ji wasn’t quite clear. All she understood was that Yang refused to return to living under Fire Nation rule.

Min Ji herself didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t a fighter, or a bender, and if she was discovered she’d be forced to go back home and marry Admiral Hien. Others would suffer far more, she knew, but she still feared that outcome.

“You have inside knowledge of the Fire Nation’s military, right?” Yang pointed out. “You could prove valuable in a rebellion, too.”

If it was a choice between war or marriage, Min Ji would choose war any day.

“Okay, so do we join a rebellion here in Ba Sing Se?” Han was leaning with her elbows on the table, and her fingers tapped erratically against the wood. It was a nervous tic that kept popping up as of late.

Yang shook his head. “I was talking to Kwan, and he said he heard that the avatar and his friends were planning to invade the Fire Nation. I figure they could use whatever information you can give them.”

Min Ji was familiar with Caldera and its layout, and even the palace, to an extent. She wouldn’t be able to draw a map of the palace’s inner chambers or secret passages, but if they were looking for the throne room or other key rooms like that, she could show them where that would be just fine.

“Where do we find the avatar?” Min Ji asked. Oh, right. The avatar was dead. “The avatar’s friends, I mean.” Assuming they’re still planning an invasion and not a funeral.

“Zu- Li.” Yang turned to look at Han. “We could talk to your friend Li.”

A look of distress crossed Han’s face. “He’s missing.” Her tapping increased in speed. “What if he’s hurt? What if something happened to him?”

Apparently, she didn’t bother to question why Yang would want to find Li in order to find the avatar’s friends.

“I’m sure he’s okay,” Min Ji said. She’d heard the stories; Prince Zuko was a survivor.

“Can we talk about something else?” Han drew in on herself and rubbed her arm.

Yang put his arm around Han. She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed.

“I’ll talk to Kwan,” Yang said. “If we could find out where they were planning on meeting up, it might give us a place to start.”

He kissed Han’s forehead. She sat up, allowing him to stand.

“Stay safe,” Han said.

“Always,” Yang promised. He crossed the room and slipped out the door. It swung silently shut behind him.

“How are you?” Min Ji asked Han.

Han sighed and let her head drop onto the table with a thunk. “I wanna die.”

Well, at least she was talking about it. When it was really bad Han wouldn’t even make jokes. Instead, she’d stare at knives and flames with just a little too much interest, and the smell of roast moo-sow would cling to her.

“I might get a chance,” Han said, her tone disturbingly hopeful. “And no one can be mad if I die for a good cause.”

“Do you want to take a nap?”

Han whined an affirmation.

Min Ji stood, tugging Han to her feet and towards the thin bedrolls they used in place of actual beds. She tucked Han in and resigned herself to watch duty.

She settled into their only soft chair, a green velvet chaise lounge, and began to read a scroll.

Some time later – Min Ji didn’t know how much, but it was dark outside now – Yang returned.

“Learn anything?” Han asked numbly. Min Ji jumped a little; she’d thought Han was asleep.

Yang picked up one of their many candles and brought it over to where Han lay. With her fingertip, Han lit the wick, and she watched it flicker.

“Chameleon bay,” Yang said. “They might not be there anymore, but last time Kwan heard, the Water Tribe had ships there. The avatar’s friends were supposed to meet them.”

“When do you want to leave?” Min Ji asked.

“You don’t have to come with us,” Yang said to Han, his voice gentle.

She sat up. “No, I’ll come.”

“We should leave tonight.” Han groaned, but Yang continued. “The sooner we leave, the better our chances of finding them, and the fewer Fire Nation troops we’ll have to sneak past.”

It occurred to Min Ji that unlike the others, she had no skills with which she could defend herself. She’d have to rely on Han and Yang to protect her.

There was nothing else for it, though, and there was nothing left in Ba Sing Se for her.

She’d have to find freedom elsewhere.

↢ ⽕ ↣

It was easy enough to evade the Dai Li; more than one earthbender had taken offense to their city suddenly being captured. Yang had to drag Han along to keep her from getting involved.

Yang had been right to have them leave so soon, too, because only about two miles out they had to hide as a company of Fire Nation soldiers passed.

The still, cold beauty of the night sky – an inky indigo dotted with stars above gray-green foliage and rolling purple hills – contrasted sharply with the boots in the dirt and the harshness of Min Ji’s breathing.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her hand found Yang’s, and his thumb rubbed against the back of her hand.

At least Chameleon Bay was only a few miles further.

↢ ⽕ ↣

Min Ji had tried to prepare herself mentally for all the possible outcomes of their attempt to flee Ba Sing Se – success, death, imprisonment, torture – but nothing could have prepared her for being captured by a Fire Nation ship captained by her former fiance.

She tested the metal cuffs on her wrists and stared down Admiral Hien as best she could, despite her concern for herself and her friends.

“Leave us,” Admiral Hien commanded, and the guards glanced at each other before filing out.

The moment they were alone, the admiral uncuffed her. She slapped his face.

“Min Ji,” he said patiently, before turning his head back to face her.

“Sorry.” Her apology was a reflex. “I’m not sorry for running away, though. How could you treat me like... like a little box to check mark? Win battles, gain acclaim, marry Min Ji.”

“I’m sorry.”

She blinked. She wasn’t finished telling him off yet, he couldn’t apologize.

“You should be sorry. You never asked me what _I_ wanted-”

“Min Ji, please, do you want me to sneak you away from here or not?”

She froze. For a moment she thought he meant – but no, he had to be saying that he’d take her back to the Fire Nation and pretend she hadn’t run away at all.

The one rebellious thing she’d ever done, the only thing she’d ever done for herself, and it could be undone just like that.

“No!” She jerked away from him. “I was finally starting to create a version of me that gets to do the things I wanna do, and I refuse to be unmade.”

Admiral Hien sighed and sat down in a red armchair. He gestured for Min Ji to sit, but she shook her head, mostly just to be defiant.

Hien leaned forward. “I’m sorry. I should have spent less time convincing your father that I am worthy of marrying you and more time convincing you of it. But I’m not interested in forcing anyone to marry me, either.”

Min Ji took a seat, cautiously optimistic.

“I still greatly admire you, and I’d like to marry you someday, but for now, I want to help you.” He added, “Which I presume means letting you ‘escape’, or taking you wherever you wanted to go.”

There were shouts from the hallway. Min Ji and Hien got to their feet, Hien drawing his sword, and Yang burst into the room, swords at the ready. There was a Water Tribe girl in the doorway behind him. They’d met in jail, once, but Min Ji couldn’t remember her name.

“Let her go!” Yang demanded.

The Water Tribe girl hit him with a water whip, and Hien fell back, soaked.

Hien sighed. With a glance at him, Min Ji ran towards her friend. She hugged Yang tight; she’d been really worried about him.

“Where’s Han?” Min Ji asked.

“With Sokka and Bato.”

Min Ji didn’t bother asking who they were. If Han wasn’t safe, Yang would have said that first.

With a second’s hesitation she turned back to Hien, crossing the room to him quickly. She pulled him up into their first kiss. It was a quick, chaste kiss that left her lips tingling, but she had chosen it, and he had allowed her to.

She wasn’t quite sure why she did it; to express her gratitude, maybe, but there was something else to it, too. An _if_. _If_ things go the way we hope, maybe someday we can be this.

“Stay safe,” she said.

“You too,” he said quietly.

She pulled away and resigned herself to whatever happened next. Whatever Water Tribe girl did to him was unlikely to be fatal, considering she traveled with the avatar, but Min Ji had chosen where she stood in this war, and it wasn’t with Hien.

Out in the hall, the Fire Nation soldiers were being subdued by... a metalbender?

Min Ji had been skeptical at the inclusion of a second 12-year-old in the avatar’s group, but apparently the 12-year-old blind girl was a metalbender. She hadn’t even known that was possible.

“Come on.” Yang tugged her the other way, up some stairs and onto the deck.

Min Ji ducked as Han sent a stream of fire over her head. Yang dodged, darting forward and knocking the firebender Han was fighting to the floor. Min Ji plastered herself against the wall and observed the fight.

Miraculously, their ragtag group of Water Tribe, Earth Kingdom, and Fire Nation fighters was winning.

Could they actually succeed at this invasion? Could they really defeat the Firelord and all his forces?

Min Ji heard a splash, and she ran over to the side of the ship just in time to see Hien surface, spluttering, more annoyed than anything. With a laugh, she waved at him, and she felt more hopeful than she had in ages.

↢ ⽕ ↣

As it turned out, one of the members of the avatar’s little group was the mastermind behind the invasion, a teenager named Sokka.

Min Ji spent hours going over the layout of Caldera City with Sokka and his father, Hakoda, trying to remember exactly where guard towers were placed and how many men there were in each. It’d been years since she’d listened to her father, General Oshiro, ramble about these things, as Min Ji curled up in his lap, and it was difficult to recall the information they needed.

“Things might have changed, too,” Min Ji said.

“This is still more inside information than we hoped for,” Hakoda said.

Sokka pointed to the Gates of Azulon and asked a question, and Min Ji continued her efforts to remember the details of the Fire Nation’s defenses.

↢ ⽕ ↣

By the time the Day of Black Sun arrived, Min Ji actually believed they could win this.

In the end, though, the Fire Nation had known they were coming, and they were forced to retreat.

↢ ⽕ ↣

“I’m fine,” Han protested, trying to sit up, but the burn on her side seemed to be giving her trouble.

“You’re not fine,” Min Ji said, stating the obvious.

Yang didn’t say anything, sitting in the corner with his arms crossed. He’d been mad at Han since the failed invasion; her injury was an accident, supposedly, but they all knew how little care Han took to avoid injury or danger, and Yang blamed her for the burn anyway.

Min Ji wasn’t sure which side she was on – preferrably, she wouldn’t have to take a side here – but she understood Yang’s anger, exacerbated every time that Han refused to allow herself the time and rest necessary to heal properly.

They’d been at the Western Air Temple for a day already, and Han was not listening to Katara’s instructions to rest.

Which was probably going to infuriate Katara, soon. The group really didn’t have any firebenders other than Han, and Aang needed a firebending teacher, even if she was a weak bender.

Although, ever since the Day of Black Sun, Han’s firebending was even weaker than usual, and it wasn’t like Han had ever had good firebending form, which... the avatar should definitely have.

“That’s okay,” Katara had said. “I wasn’t a great bender when I started out, either.”

“We don’t have that much time until Sozin’s Comet arrives,” Sokka had pointed out.

Katara had given him a glare, and Sokka had awkwardly excused himself to go find Aang.

Aang himself came to visit Han a few hours later, though.

Yang and Min Ji had excused themselves to give them some privacy. They leaned against the wall in the hallway.

“Should we...” Min Ji began, but she stopped.

“What?”

“Would it really be so bad, to go back home? Is it worth all this?”

Yang was silent for a long moment, and it occurred to Min Ji that while she knew what the consequences would be for her – everyone would politely ignore the fact that she’d ever run away, circling the subject with euphemisms and excuses – she had no idea why Yang had left in the first place.

“I never told you how I met Zuko,” Yang said, eventually.

Min Ji shook her head. She assumed the supposed non sequitur was going to tie into why he’d left.

“My father caught me, uh, kissing my friend Makoto,” and she had had her suspicions, of course, but Makoto was a masculine name and that was as good as a confirmation, “and he... beat me.”

A small noise escaped her.

“I was still really bruised when one of Zuko’s sailors found me a few days later, and so when he asked why I had stowed away on his ship, I showed him the bruises.”

“And he wanted to help you,” Min Ji guessed. Of course he did: Prince Zuko knew what paternal abuse felt like.

Yang raised an eyebrow at her. “You always talk about him like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s _flawless_.” Yang’s tone was mocking. “He’s not even _nice_ , half the time.”

“He’s been through a lot,” Min Ji defended.

Yang snorted. “Yeah, I know.” He sighed. “I’m not saying he’s not... worthy of admiration, or anything. He’s cool. If he weren’t my boss of three years, I’d consider him a friend. He’s just not _perfect_.”

And, oh. Min Ji had been thinking of Prince Zuko as a symbol of something more than what he was. To her, he represented the entire concept of rebellion, and the ensuing freedom. She’d romanticized his suffering and his scar and made them symbols, too.

There was no way he could live up to that, though. Realistically, no confused sixteen-year-old could, and she’d been doing the same thing everyone else had done to her, putting him on a pedestal and worshipping him.

“Right,” she said, and at her downtrodden tone Yang glanced over at her.

“I’m sorry, I’m just stressed,” he said.

Min Ji nodded. “We all are.”

For Yang, there wasn’t another option. They had to defeat Firelord Ozai and put... someone new in charge. Maybe Zuko. Yang had admitted that Zuko was a good guy.

At any rate, Min Ji cared for Yang, so she’d do what she could to keep him safe.

The door slid open and Aang stepped out.

“Any luck?” Yang asked.

Aang shook his head, dejected. “I don’t think she can teach me firebending.”

Yang sighed and closed his eyes, sinking to the floor, back pressed against the wall.

“I guess I don’t have a choice.” Aang continued, voice filled with a strange determination. “Zuko’s going to have to be my firebending teacher.”


End file.
